


King of the Mountain

by enigma731



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:45:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/783028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony needs some advice about being a human and a hero.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King of the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: IRON MAN 3 SPOILERS
> 
> Trigger Warnings: None
> 
> I don't even know, you guys. This has probably been done before, but my brain wanted to write it, so here you go. ;)

Natasha is in the gym at the Tower, throwing tiny, feather-weight knives at a target shaped like a man. They're made of a new super light alloy the boys have been developing, and she likes the way the little weapons fly at the flick of her wrist, reminding her of Clint's arrows. She's so wrapped up in enjoyment of the challenge that she almost doesn't hear Tony come in, doesn't have time to react until he's standing a few feet behind her.

 “Can I help you?” she asks, without turning around. Taking a brief moment to aim, she throws again, landing the knife squarely in between the target's eyes.

 “I need you to move to Malibu,” says Tony. “Be my new head of security.”

 Natasha snorts, still refusing to turn around. “Right. Because it went so well the last time I worked for you.”

 “I'm serious.”

 There's something in his voice that does make her turn then, an undercurrent of desperation that reminds her of the way he'd sounded on the night of that disastrous birthday party. She raises an eyebrow at him.

 “I had the arc reactor and the shrapnel removed.” Tony taps his chest to demonstrate, wincing when he evidently hits a spot that's still healing. “Got rid of all the suits. There was—an incident. Big mess, but it's all taken care of now.”

 Natasha rolls her eyes. “I heard. Made a nice mess of paperwork for S.H.I.E.L.D. And by the way, you can thank us for the fact that the media isn't _still_ camping on your front porch.”

 “Huh,” says Tony, looking like it's never occurred to him that it takes actual _work_ to restore his privacy when he's just broadcast his personal information to the world.

 “You don't actually want me babysitting you again.” She turns back to the target, throws two more knives, taking out its knees. “So why are you really here?”

 “I need you to fix me,” says Tony, and for a moment she actually thinks it's a joke. But the usual glint of humor is nowhere to be found in his eyes when she looks at him over her shoulder. Just that strange edge of vulnerability again.

 “Sorry,” she deadpans. “Reconditioning pathological narcissism is _way_ outside of my skill set. And I'm pretty sure you're beyond hope anyway.”

 “You fixed Barton,” he protests, his tone verging on petulance.

 “I hit him in the head.” It's not the whole story, not even close, but that isn't Tony's to know. Instead she offers him her best saccharine smile, exactly the kind of simpering look Natalie gave him, once. “Is that what you want me to do for you?”

 “I want you to _fix_ me,” he insists. “Get inside my head. Manipulate. Whatever it is you do.”

 “I don't fix people,” says Natasha. “Actually, I don't fix anything. Isn't that supposed to be your job?”

 “That's the problem.” He moves to stand in front of her, pulls the knife from the target's forehead and stares at it. “It _is_ supposed to be my job. And I'm _great_ at it. But I can't fix myself.”

 “What, exactly, do you think 'fixed' means?”

 Tony shrugs. “I'd like to be able to sleep through the night. I'd like to stop thinking about—things.”

 Natasha sighs. “That's not how it works. You want to be a super hero? You want to be responsible for people's lives? Mortality is part of the deal. So are nightmares. If you ever stop having them, you should probably be concerned.”

 For a moment he simply blinks at her, and she thinks she can practically see the pieces falling together inside his head. And then he surprises her: Tony looks at her and laughs, a breathless, genuine sound that warms her in spite of herself.

 “What's so funny?”

 “I just realized,” he answers, clearing his throat, “ _you've_ been a hero for years now. Longer than I have. I never thought of that before.”

 “I'm not a hero,” says Natasha, and leaves it at that.

 “Fine.” Tony moves to stand next to her, then throws the knife he's been holding toward the target. It misses entirely, clattering to the floor with a tinny sound. “But maybe you could teach me how to use these things. And, you know, that sparring thing you do. It'll probably be a while before Happy's ready to pick that up again.”

 “You're asking me to help you by kicking your ass?” He has a point. Tony has a basic knowledge of hand-to-hand combat. He knows how to throw punches and kicks, and he's not bad, for the average man. But he has no concept of how to use his body as more than it is, how to read intention and vulnerability in an opponent. He lacks subtlety, having become accustomed to armor and pyrotechnics.

 “I guess I am,” says Tony, then looks like he's surprised himself. “Damn.”

 Natasha smiles, this time with sincere pleasure. “Tomorrow, at 0900. Don't be late, or I'll make it extra torture.”

 “Sounds kinky,” says Tony. “See you at 9:30.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Queen of the Mountain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157015) by [shinkonokokoro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinkonokokoro/pseuds/shinkonokokoro)




End file.
